Choose your Weapon
by WadeH
Summary: Having trouble remembering the exact Regency protocol for a duel? This little cheat-sheet has all you need to know (silly one-shot, complete)


_Welcome back to my loyal readers and a hearty welcome to new ones! This is a short and silly one-shot, so please enjoy._

 _Wade_

* * *

"Pistols or swords, Sir!"

I had just managed to get rid of Bingley with his ceaseless nagging to dance, as if I would do such a thing at an assembly such as this, when I heard the unexpected words from just to my left.

I turned quickly to see a gentleman of perhaps 50 years, with light grayish hair and fashionable looking sideburns. He was well dressed and staring at me with a truly disconcerting manner. I begin to feel like a mouse being watched by an owl.

"I beg your pardon, sir!"

" _You heard me!_ If you insult my daughter sir, I believe I must answer on the field of honor. I am giving you your choice of weapons, as I feel it would be to my advantage, since you clearly have no sense whatsoever and will probably choose the wrong one. Will your pup over there act as your second?"

A brown haired, moderately pretty woman walked up behind the gentleman, and said, "Papa, do not be ridiculous! You do not really plan to take advantage of a nearsighted man on the field of honor! It would be ungentlemanly in the extreme. You should really take pity on the poor lunkhead. It must be difficult to live with his deficiencies. You are a gentleman and we are supposed to be charitable."

It took me a moment to work out that this was apparently the sister of the "angel" that Bingley had picked out for the night, and almost certainly the lady I had slighted. It must be admitted that she was quite pretty, so I had been not only rude but inaccurate. It never occurred to me that I might be overheard, and now I was to pay the price.

I was just preparing to give the apology she was owed, but the gentleman carried on without so much as a pause.

"Do not be missish Lizzy, I will only wing the little upstart. I do not intend to kill him… Sir William would chastise me for weeks over the paperwork alone. No, his life is quite safe in my hands. It has been quite some time since I killed anybody in a duel."

The young lady just sighed dramatically, and said, "I am not certain I agree with your definition of _'quite some time'_ , Papa. Did you not kill that Wickham fellow just three weeks ago?"

The old man just rubbed his chin with his hand, and said, "Yes Lizzy, I can see your point… Although I do not think you can properly call that killing him, since it took him a full week to die."

Just as I opened my mouth to speak, another portly looking man walked up, saying, "Capital! Capital! Do not tell me you have assigned yourself another duel, Bennet?"

"Sir William, good to have you here sir! I will be needing a second. I do not suppose you would loan me the Mallory pistols?"

The old man was practically drooling over the suggestion, which had me a little bit worried. I was still trying to work out my apology, but the jovial looking man was not to be denied. He was a rather portly, 50 or 60-ish looking man, who had entirely too many smiles; reminding me of a much older Bingley.

"Not the Mallorys? Surely you jest! I am not certain I can countenance such a weapon for a duel, Bennett!"

"And I suppose you are afraid I will kill the young buck! You know I almost never do that!"

My head was spinning in circles, as the newcomer replied, " _Almost_ and _never_ are two entirely different things Bennett! Are you truly certain you want the Mallorys?"

The pretty, brunette young lady carried on, "Papa, you cannot seriously consider having a duel just because a shortsighted hunchback said something stupid! John Lucas would never have survived his childhood under that regime."

At those words, a young man of about twenty who had much in common with both my prize steer and Gentleman Jim; including size, strength, horns and disposition; butted in, saying, "Come come, Mr. Bennet! Lizzy makes a good point. I can simply take him out back and beat him within an inch of his life. That seems fair compensation for the offense."

The pretty, vivacious brunette young lady replied, " _You most certainly shall not come to your wedding with your knuckles bleeding James Lucas!_ ", with a stomp of her foot that was either endearing or disconcerting.

The older gentleman, apparently the lady's father, looked at me again, and said, "Well if you insist Lizzy, I imagine we could have him marry you. What say you Sir? I shall rephrase the question."

I looked at him somewhat dumbfounded and opened my mouth to reply, but he still beat me to it.

"Pistols, swords, or parson, Sir!"

Now the young lady looked seriously aggrieved and said, " _You cannot be serious Papa!_ I will not be shackled to a nearsighted, hunchbacked, ill-tempered man. I guess shooting him does not sound quite so bad after all, or I imagine you could wrap your fists, James."

The rotund man carried on with, "Capital! Capital! I believe your Lizzy may have the right of it Bennet, not to mention the fact that t _here is some chance he might wing you instead of the other way around!_ "

All four of them just laughed uproariously, which I thought was not an auspicious sign for my continued good health.

Once again, I opened my mouth to issue an apology, when a blonde-haired beauty, probably Bingley's latest Angel, walked up beside the brunette-haired beauty who was apparently her sister.

"Papa, you are not engaging in another duel, are you?"

The man who issued the challenge, who I imagine must be the brunette goddess' father, replied, "Yes Jane, this man said Lizzy was ' _tolerable, but not handsome enough to tempt him…'_

The blonde stared at me like some type of vermin, and calmly said, "Yes Sir William, the Mallorys will do admirably, _or perhaps the Smithson swords_! I always loved those swords, and I do not think Father has used them in a duel in ages."

"Capital! Capital! Smithson it is! You will refrain from nicking the blade, eh! Bennet? They are frightfully difficult to buff out."

I wondered if there was some sort of rule that said this man had to say those two words at the beginning of every sentence, and just exactly what I was getting myself into, and coincidentally, if every single person in this county was quite mad; as all evidence suggested.

The beautiful brunette Valkyrie tsked-tsked, and said, "You are all getting completely out of hand. I will neither marry, nor allow my father to injure a man, simply because he is nearsighted, hunchbacked, ill-tempered and badly dressed. It really is truly unsupportable! I have no idea what you are all carrying on about. If you insist he marry someone, give him to Lydia, or that foul-tempered redhead he came in with!"

Once again, I opened my mouth to apologize, but it was nearly impossible to slide a word in edgewise with these people. By now, Bingley had followed the blonde, who I presume to be the elder sister, and was standing looking on in some consternation.

The rotund man, who seemed to be some type of local dignitary, said "Capital! Capital! Mr. Bingley, I see you are here to act as second! Capital! Capital! Shall we say dawn, then!"

A young lady of maybe five and twenty came up behind the rotund man, and calmly said, " _Papa, you most certainly may not loan the Smithsons._ They are mine, not to be used for carving up lunkheads. Do you have _any idea_ how long it takes to sharpen those things up? No sir, it must be the Mallorys! But of course, the er… _gentleman_ has not made his choice yet! It might be Mr. Collins he chooses."

The beautiful brunette Valkyrie goddess looked alarmed and said, "Charlotte Lucas! _I will not be married_ to a nearsighted, hunchbacked, ill‑tempered and badly dressed, obnoxious man by _any_ parson; nor will I _ever_ be married to _anyone_ by my cousin.

Once again, I tried to interject, but the father carried on without a pause, "You all seem to make something that should be very simple overly complicated. If it is not to be the Smithsons, and not to be the parson, it appears we are back to the Mallorys."

I once again tried to interject, but a matron that shared a common look with the brunette beauty said, "My pardon, Mr. Bennet… but did you say the Mallorys?"

"Yes, my dear, I did."

"Oh dear"

The man looked somewhat alarmed, and asked, "That sounds ominous."

The lady continued, "Well, you see… well, you see… Lydia actually borrowed the Mallorys from Maria Lucas and… well, I am most certain you do not want to duel with them."

The rotund man frowned, or at least came as close to a frown as he seemed capable of, and said, "capital. capital." I was beginning to miss his old emphasis of the two words.

Once again, I tried to intervene, but before I could say a word, the beautiful, clearly intelligent, brunette Valkyrie goddess replied, "That is probably for the best Papa. I truly do not feel my morning would be best spent watching you wing a nearsighted, hunchbacked, ill‑tempered, badly dressed, obnoxious and apparently mute _'gentleman'_ at dawn. I should much rather walk to Oakham Mount."

Before I could say anything, the gentleman said, "I cannot wing him?" with a look of reproach of a small child denied a sweet.

The great bull of a man looked similar disappointed, and said, "You mean I cannot thrash him?"

A fat, balding, ridiculous looking man said, "You mean I cannot marry them. My esteemed patroness, Lady Catherine de Bourgh, will be most seriously displeased if I return both without a wife and without performing any ceremonies at all."

The lady that had been complaining about the swords said, "Who says you must leave without a wife, Mr. Collins."

Everyone looked at her in some consternation or amazement, and seemed to forget me entirely for the moment, which I considered for the best and started looking around surreptitiously for an exit I could escape this lunatic asylum from.

The beautiful, clearly intelligent, brunette Valkyrie, goddess raptor said, "Charlotte Lucas, have you gone insane."

The other lady said, "Probably, but I intend to marry your cousin anyway."

The rotund man looked inordinately pleased with himself, and I just shook my head and went to sneak away.

The older gentleman said, "Well, that settles that. I imagine we only have one lunkhead left to deal with."

"Capital! Capital!"

 **"SIIILLLLLLLEEEEENNNNNNNCCCCCEEEEE"**

I was quite surprised when that came out of my mouth. Lady Catherine would be mortified, which was a breach of manners nearly impossible to fathom previously. Everyone in the assembly hall came to a complete stop and stared at me, so I decided to take control of the situation.

" **BINGLEY, INTRODUCTIONS!** "

Bingley hopped to, "Sir William Lucas, Miss Charlotte Lucas, Mr. Bennet, Miss Jane Bennet, Miss Elizabeth Bennet, Mr. James Lucas; allow me the pleasure of introducing Mr. Darcy of Pemberley in Derbyshire. Mr. Darcy, etc."

So, Elizabeth it was. Time to dig myself out of this hole.

Everyone stared at me waiting my word, with James Lucas cracking his knuckles, and Mr. Bennet looking as if was thinking wistfully of the Mallorys.

I ignored everyone in the room except for the beautiful, clearly intelligent, brunette Valkyrie, goddess, raptor, lady, and said, "I have a few things to say if you will allow me?"

She nodded carefully, and everyone else reserved judgment.

"Firstly, I must profusely apologize madam. I know not if I am more mortified by my bad manners, my nearsightedness, or as you observed my general lunkheadedness, as you are clearly handsome enough to tempt me or anyone, hunchback or not. I wonder if an apology might suffice in lieu of the Smithsons, the Mallorys, or the fists; if it includes sufficient groveling?"

She laughed at that, and actually smiled at me, at which point she might as well have gone outside and dragged the sun in from the other side of the world for the effect it had on me. She said, "Perhaps I may remove _apparently mute_ from the end of the list.

I returned her smile and said, "Perhaps, I might remove some other adjectives without danger to your friend's knuckles if I work at it long enough?"

"You may try, sir."

I stared at her and said, "Miss Bennet, I will apologize again, and ask you for the pleasure of this next set. Should I improve in your esteem during that set, I will beg the pleasure of your last set. Should that set meet with your approval, I shall ask permission to call on you tomorrow. Should that visit proceed to plan, I shall ask your father for permission to court you. Should that courtship meet your expectations, I shall ask you to marry me. Should you agree, I shall drag you off to what shall be _our_ estate Pemberley or _our_ house in town, both of which are equipped with excellent libraries, _and dare I say it,_ excellent armories… _including_ , if I may boast, a set of custom made Mallorys! I shall even ask Mr. Mallory to call on your father and replace Sir William's weapons. You of course may say 'No' at any stage in this process, or call on your father or your bull of a friend at any time, and I will accept it as my due. Is that satisfactory?"

The beautiful, clearly intelligent, brunette Valkyrie, goddess, raptor, lady, love of my life laughed again, and said, "That seems overly complicated."

I laughed along with her, fell to my knee in front of her, took her hand, and said, "Let us simplify then! Miss Elizabeth Bennet, will you do me the great honor of becoming my wife."

She was clearly not expecting this, but she stared into my eyes for at least a half hour, and finally nodded her head.

If my face looked anything like hers, I imagine we would be lighting up the gossip mills to a fever pitch within the hour. I vaguely heard music starting, so I offered her my arm and we quite happily went off to our first dance. I can well remember every word that was said after that exchange, as they are burned into my mind and my heart forever.

"Capital! Capital!"


End file.
